Hedgehogs, milk and roads

Friday 24th July, 2020.

At times it feels as if chaos and tumult reign. The pandemic causes opinions and solutions and peoples to divide. The media pedal horror stories with the occasional sentimental tear-jerking, make-me-feel-good tale thrown in. All of it pressurises one and I grow evermore able to understand people feeling a mental strain. There is good news but it is as if those in charge of media communication want to pander to our tremulous side. They play to our fears as has the Government and the whirlwind is being reaped.

A friend in Oxfordshire driving home on the back lanes came across a hedgehog in the middle of the road. He emailed me the story as he knows I belong to the 'save the hedgehog' brigade lobbying government to insist on building regulations be aware of and sensitive to the ways of hedgehogs. He got out of his car and was worried that the hedgehog was not frightened but rather followed him around in circles. It looked underweight and hungry. So he took it home, a short distance away. There he put it in a box, gave it some drink and collected some slugs from his garden. After it had drunk and eaten it grew more active. He decided to take it back to where he had found it. When he stopped he heard some people in a nearby garden. He knocked on the door which was opened by an elderly lady. He told his story and she said she had her grandchildren with her. Only that morning they had found a baby hedgehog in the garden. They had put out cat food and drink. So she would be delighted to have another.

I recalled Mrs Tiddlewinks the hedgehog my family adopted in Baghdad in 1956. Somewhere there is a photograph or two of her with her saucer of goodies. I recall the wonderful moment when Mrs T brought her family of 4 to drink and eat with her. Happy memories.

Yesterday I saw no hedgehog but I sat by a lake and watched a fly past of two herons, the antics of 4 cygnets and the mad calypsos of duck and moorhens.

Strolling home I took a different path to usual, up through the copse of high and mighty beech and oak. I noticed movement on the path and looking more closely I saw a tiny frog hopping across. I feared the sharp rapier beaks of the herons so I stayed on duty. When the frog was crossed and the longer grass on the verge attained I carried on.

We can all share this planet together. Yes, horrors and divisions are part of our daily intake but so is beauty and nature.